The Awakening
by JamesFrost
Summary: Life is turned upside down for young Harry Potter as his past is revealed. But what will happen when his future doesn't go as everyone planned. AU, HG in later chapters.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

"Get up, boy!"

With a start, Harry Potter sat up quickly, slapping his head into the stairs above him in his cupboard.

"Bloody hell…" he muttered. 'Going _to be another one of those days apparently_,' Harry thought morosely. Quickly, Harry put his glasses on rushing to get dressed as the cupboard door was ripped open.

"When I tell you to get up, you better damn well listen!" his Uncle Vernon screamed at him, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him out.

"I feel we've been lenient enough with you boy, today I will not put up with your shenanigans!" Uncle Vernon screamed as he dragged Harry into the kitchen, throwing him into the floor in front of the stovetop.

"Make my breakfast boy, and I swear if it is anything like it normally is, I'll take my belt to you!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Harry sighed, as he quickly got himself up and began making breakfast in earnest. For the last ten years, Harry Potter had been forced to live with his uncle and aunt in Little Whinging. The beatings had been regular, and Harry had learned quickly to do whatever he was told to do without complaint. As Harry dutifully made the breakfast, he heard the mail slot slap shut. Knowing how his uncle wanted the post with his morning tea, Harry quickly rushed out, running so the eggs would not burn while he was fetching the morning drop.

Rushing through the hall, Harry quickly picked up the mail and post, turning and running back into the kitchen, depositing the paper next to his uncle as he moved back to the stove. Checking the eggs, Harry filled a glass and took the tea to his uncle before returning to the breakfast.

"Hurry up boy! I don't have all day to sit and wait on you to make a sorry excuse for a breakfast!" Uncle Vernon yelled at him as he opened the post.

Moving as quick as he was able, Harry loaded up three plates worth of food to take over to the table. Two things alerted Harry to the entrance of his cousin Dudley. One, the door falling back into place, followed quickly by a punch to his side. Luckily for Harry, he happened to not be holding anything breakable as he let go of the fork in his hand as it fell upon the plate he was filling.

"Trying to pick at the scraps, scar boy?" his rotund cousin sneered at him.

Ignoring his cousin's comment, Harry moved with the plates and set them down in front of the respective spots of his 'family'. As Harry lowered the last plate to the table, a resounding slap was heard across the room as he fell backwards away from his uncle Vernon's outreached hand.

"How many times do I have to tell you boy!? I want my eggs over-medium, if you bring another batch of runny eggs I will put you under my belt and make you really feel it!"

Harry quickly pushed off the floor, holding his lip as he stood to move back into the kitchen, "Yes, Uncle Vernon, I'm sorry Uncle Vernon." Rushing to the stove, Harry once again began to make the eggs that his uncle preferred, hoping against hope that this time he made it to his wants.

"After everything we've done for you boy, bringing you in and caring for you with the goodness of our hearts. Keeping you here when your damned parents had to go and get themselves blown up! Filthy freaks were probably selling drugs again, pushing on good wholesome boys and girls."

Harry did his best to tune out his uncle's rant while he rushed to complete his eggs. It was not the first time that he had heard his uncle erupt into one of his many tirades about his parents. Though Harry had lost his parents only a year after he was born, he couldn't bring himself to believe his uncle's views and stories about them. Harry knew his parents were dead, what parent would leave their child in this care? But what truly bothered Harry was wondering what he might have done to push them to their deaths. Was it his fault that his parents were dead? Gone and to never hold him when he asked for them, pleaded and cried out for them? Sometimes all Harry could do was to sit in his cupboard and hold himself in order to fall asleep; days were hard enough with the Dursleys without constantly wishing for his parents to return and rescue him.

As quickly as he could, Harry finished his uncle's eggs to perfection, moving them over and setting them in front of his uncle before he could notice his little nephew's movements. Moving back to the bar, Harry begins to move through the post, separating the bills and other articles. Harry had to bite his lip to keep himself from gasping when he came across a letter addressed to him.

_Mr. Harry J. Potter_

_Cupboard under the Stairs_

_No. 4 Privet Drive _

_Little Whinging, Surrey_

Glancing over to the table, Harry cautiously moved the letter under his too-big shirt to slide into the fold of his large jeans. Hoping against hope that his hand-me-down clothing wouldn't betray him, Harry quickly moved out of the kitchen and stepped to his 'room'. Opening the door, Harry shoved this unknown letter into his pillow case, hoping to hide it from a general view, the last thing he wanted was to have his uncle and aunt believe he had told someone about where they kept him. Though they did little to hide their disdain for him, Harry knew that his life would more than likely be forfeit if it was found out how they treated and had treated him his entire life. Making sure the letter was secure, Harry rushed back into the kitchen silently, the less his 'family' knew about his disappearance, the better.

Barely had Harry reentered the kitchen, his Aunt Petunia pushed through the entryway and moved to sit down. Hurriedly, Harry rushed to get his aunt's morning tea and brought over to her as she sat down, moving the honey and sugar over for her to use whenever she was ready. Without a glance in his direction, Aunt Petunia waved him away with a crinkled face, as though the boy was wretched and covered in filth. Harry rushed back into the kitchen to finish his aunt's breakfast and to make seconds for his cousin, never knew when Dudley would want thirds or even fourths.

"Boy," Harry's aunt began, "I believe it's time for you to start on your chores this morning. No more lying around for you. I want the garden finished this afternoon before Vernon arrives home so that we may eat our dinner outside and not be bothered by that horrific thing you have tried and call a yard."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry intoned. '_I knew this was going to be a bad one_,' the young man thought to himself.

--- ---

Harry dragged himself doggedly back to his cupboard late that evening. Having spent the majority of the day weeding and tending to the yard as his aunt instructed, Harry had been forced to make all the meals only to finally be allowed a sandwich as the Dursleys headed to bed. Upon entering his cupboard, Harry relieved himself of his clothes and fell upon the bed to quickly succumb to his exhaustion, only to hear what sounded as though paper was being crumpled beneath his head. Harry immediately sat up, once again busting his head upon the stairs above him.

"Boy! Keep that racket down or I'll get my belt after you again!"

"Sorry Uncle Vernon!" Harry called, sitting back to nurse his enlarging headache. Reaching quietly into his pillow case, Harry gingerly removed the letter addressed to him. Turning it over to get a closer look at who might have written to him.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Under these words, Harry noticed an odd coat of arms. Within it, he saw a badger, snake, some type of bird, in the low light through the air vent, Harry thought it looked similar to a hawk or eagle, and finally he saw a lion. Hesitantly, Harry began to open the letter, hoping against hope that he was quiet enough to not alert the Dursleys. After slowly opening the envelope, Harry began to remove the letter within. After carefully unfolding the parchment, Harry began to read the quick and exact writing strewn upon it.

_Mr. Harry Potter,_

_We are glad to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Within this envelope you will find a listing of all the books required for your first year along with school supplies that will be needed through the duration of your stay on campus. It has come to my attention that the 'family' that you live with are not the most pleasant, nor the most understanding in this situation. Therefore, you can expect me to stop by on the morning of July 21__st__, in order better acquaint you with your history and future._

_It is of my greatest pleasure to welcome you to our school and hope that we may see many amazing things as we did from your parents. Again, remember that I will be arriving in the morning of the 21__st__, due to your situation, I will ask you to not inform your relations of my upcoming arrival. _

_With great respect,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

_Gryffindor Head of House_

Harry could barely breathe, 'This has to be a dream! It cannot be real…' Lying back against his pillow, young Harry could do nothing but stare upward, wondering how off he had really become. Witchcraft…wizardry? Did this mean that he, Harry, was a…wizard… that he could use…magic? Lifting his head, Harry reread through the letter over and over, trying to wrap his head around all this information. By the fifth time he read through the letter, Harry's heart sank. The 21st… that was tomorrow, that would mean he would truly know whether or not he was truly leaving the Dursleys, or if he had truly gone barmy. Though he could only imagine the reactions of his aunt and uncle once this woman arrived tomorrow, they would go atomic.

Returning the letter to its envelope, Harry once again slid it within his pillow case, turning it away from his head as he began to shift to try and find a comfortable way of resting, he didn't think there would be much sleep coming to him that night. Though as he began to daydream about all the things he had ever read or heard of magic, Harry began to nod off, his last thoughts filled with turning Dudley into some form of lizard and leaving him as such until he decided better.

--- ---

"Boy! Answer that door!"

Harry quickly moved from the kitchen to the front door where he heard soft knocking repeat itself. With a baited breath, Harry stopped with his hand upon the knob, bracing himself for who might be behind the door. Realizing there was nothing he could do by waiting any longer; Harry hesitantly began to turn the knob, steeling himself for what was to come.

"Hello?"

Harry looked up to see a middle aged woman standing before him, a collected stern look upon the middle aged woman's face as she looked down upon him through her glasses. Even though he had just met her, Harry could tell that this woman was this McGonagall whom had sent the letter. Her hair up was up in a tight bun, holding all of its length behind her solidly, but Harry felt his thoughts skipping as he took the rest of her appearance in. Though her letter stated she was a witch or something, she was dressed as anyone would be coming in from the street. A strict blue business suit fit her professionally, though he had somewhat been hoping for a long cape and pointed hat, just like the movies.

"Hello Mr. Potter, it is nice to finally meet you," the woman replied. The young man before her couldn't help but smile at the first genuine greeting he had received in his young life. Most of those he had met throughout his stay with the Dursleys were biased to a fault, persecuting with certain intent. This was the first person Harry could remember that seemed genuinely glad to meet him.

"Ms. McGonagall I take it?" Harry offered.

"Professor if you don't mind Mr. Potter, I haven't been referred to as Ms. for a very long time." The stern woman replied with a slight smile touching her face.

"Boy! What is taking so long?" Vernon yelled from the kitchen.

Harry flinched with reaction to his uncle's raised voice; he could only imagine what would happen now that this professor arrived at the door. Looking back upon the woman in front of him, Harry noticed the hint of a smile that had played at the woman's lips was gone, now replaced by a large scowl.

"Come Mr. Potter, I believe it is time that we had a little… discussion with your 'family'."

As Professor McGonagall began to walk past him, Harry couldn't help his breathing as his heart began to accelerate. He knew that this could and more than likely would end badly for him. '_Who knows how mad Uncle Vernon will get once he knows that there's a … witch here for me_,' he thought. Staying silent behind the woman in front of him, Harry walked as slowly as he could, fearing what would happen behind the closed doors of this house now. As the two entered the kitchen, Harry watched as Vernon's face began to change to a multiple of colors, his Aunt Petunia's face began to pale more than its natural whiteness.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house!?" Screamed Vernon Dursley, whose face, was turning a sickening purple.

"Hello Mr. Dursley, my name is Minerva McGonagall; I am the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts, the school that Harry shall be attending this fall."

As quickly as his face had become purple, Vernon's face began to drain quickly into a stark white; it was all Harry could do to not erupt in laughter at the quick contrast.

"Wh-what did you say?" Vernon barely whispered.

With a thin lipped smile, McGonagall turned to look Harry's uncle squarely in the eye after surveying the rest of the room, waiting till Petunia sat in her chair before continuing.

"You heard me Vernon Dursley. I have come to help Mr. Potter here gather what little he has and take him to gather his school supplies."

"You…you're one of them aren't you…one of those freaks…" Petunia breathed.

"If by freak, you are referring to a witch, then yes, I am." If it was possible, Professor McGonagall's lips seemed to thin more, looking as though she had none.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Vernon erupted, standing and grabbing Harry by the arm, pulling him over and slapping him across the face. "THIS IS YOUR DOING ISN'T IT BOY! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE BEATEN YOU HARDER! REMOVE THE UNNATURALNESS FROM YOU WHEN I HAD THE CHANCE!"

Before anyone could react, a flash of red erupted around the room as Vernon went slack to the floor, releasing Harry as he fell.

"If any of you," Minerva McGonagall started in a dark whisper, "touch this boy again, I will show you what real harm can be given! You have beaten this boy mercilessly, I will not have any child treated in such a manner and let it go on!"

Harry stood stock still, though he could feel the blood building in his mouth from the strong slap from his uncle, he couldn't remove his eyes from the stick in the woman's hand. He saw as the flash of color sprang from it to hit his uncle in the chest. Looking down, Harry noticed that his uncle seemed to be sprouting boils across his entire face as he began to stir. Moving quickly out of the reach of his uncle, Harry stood hesitantly behind this woman who seemed to be protecting him.

"I have seen the abuse you have given this boy, over nothing more than what he is! It is nigh time you paid for what you have done!" As she spoke, Minerva McGonagall walked over to the phone hanging on the wall, removing the receiver as she kept her wand steadily pointed at the Dursley family sitting in terror at the kitchen table. Harry couldn't help but stare between the woman who had just appeared this morning and those that had been his personal hell for so many years. He couldn't help but watch as the professor walked briskly over to begin to dial the emergency number into the touchtone.

Harry was confused as he watched the intimidating woman before him pause before she turned a stern gaze in his direction.

"Harry, come here please."

Hesitantly, Harry walked over to the Professor, "What is it, Professor?"

Harry pulled back slightly when the stern gaze flashed back to the table of quivering Dursleys, as he heard her whisper, "I don't know how to work this… Call the Please-men of the felotone please."

Harry could barely hold back the laughter that wanted to leave his lips, as he reached forward and pressed the correct sequence of numbers and held the receiver up for the professor, quietly explaining which part was held to her ear, the other in front of her mouth.

"Yes, I would like to report a case of child abuse. Yes, at no. 4 Privet Drive. No I am not a resident but I am a teacher of the victim. Yes…thank you."

As Professor McGonagall replaced the receiver, Harry heard a gasp behind him, turning he could see the faces of the Dursleys as they were frozen in fear at what was coming. From behind him, Harry could hear the witch behind him taking slow breaths as she turned to face the rest of those within the room.

"The authorities are on their way. You two will be brought up on charges of abuse and as far as I'm concerned, they can lock you up in the Tower and forget you are there."

--- ---

"Thank you professor, your statement will be used in the proceedings of these two. Thank for calling us when you did."

Sergeant Mallory couldn't help but shake his head, when he had received the call of the domestic problem, never in his mind would he have expected the horrid truth of what they would find in this quiet suburb. The markings on the boy and his emaciated condition were enough for a conviction, let alone the 'room' that he had been forced to use for the last ten years of his life. As he watched the man and woman being escorted out of the house, he couldn't help but feel sorry for their son, one look at the boy showed how he had been treated in complete opposite of his cousin. The overfed look, and prat attitude showed how spoiled he had to have been and new that the boy's life was soon to take a drastic turn.

"Harry, lad, come here please." Sergeant Mallory called to the boy sitting stiffly at the kitchen table. It had been hell for the boy to show the scars and recent wounds he had received from these monsters. The sickening bruise growing on his cheek was hard enough, but for him to see the scars upon the boy's back, legs and arms was enough to turn his stomach. The sergeant watched as the boy stood slowly and walked over to him.

"Harry, your professor and I have discussed what will happen for now, you are going to go with her to school, her papers are all in order and during your year we will look for a family for you to stay with during the holidays."

"Thank you," Harry replied timidly. Though this was what he had been wishing for during his stay, an escape, Harry couldn't help but fear what he would be forced to endure with a new family. Would they beat him also? Make him do their chores, cook their food?

"Don't worry Harry, we'll get you a good family to stay with, preferably one of our outlook." Professor McGonagall whispered to him, making Harry look into her eyes. In all of his dreams, he had wished to escape from his hell, to be part of something wonderful, today it seemed was going to be his opportunity to have his dreams come true.

"Well professor, we'll be cordoning off a majority of the inside of the house, but should be finished roughly in a few hours, if there is anything else you can tell us about this situation, please contact us."

"Of course Sergeant Mallory, I'll be taking Harry to get some of his school supplies then we will be stopping by to retrieve anything we might have missed. Thank you." Professor McGonagall replied, moving over to Harry and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready Harry? We'll be taking the rail into London for the majority of our trip today before we return."

Harry felt probably his first genuine smile grace his face as he turned his gaze to this woman who had saved him.

"Yes professor," he replied excitedly.

"Then we're off." Nodding to the sergeant, Professor McGonagall led Harry out the door and onto the sidewalk as they began their journey to Harry's future.

--- ---

"It looks as though we are making excellent time Mr. Potter." McGonagall spoke as she turned her gaze upon the enraptured young boy beside her. Throughout their walk and following trip into London, Harry had been quite silent; she had feared that he had feared her, possibly hated her for changing what life he had known. Who knew how a child would react after having what life they knew, even one as deplorable as what Harry had faced, to having it changed in the span of an afternoon.

Luckily, her fears had been put to rest the moment they had stepped through the barrier into Diagon Alley. The apprehension McGonagall had seen throughout the morning and following journey vanished as the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron began to open.

--- ---

"_Its real then isn't it?" Harry asked._

"_What do you mean Mr. Potter?" Inquired the confused professor._

"_You weren't lying about the magic you were speaking to me about while we were walking? I'm really a wizard, one who can use magic?"_

"_Yes Mr. Potter, you can. I'd even wager that you will be very powerful at it as well, considering how powerful of a witch and wizard your parents were."_

_Harry froze in mid-step through the barrier along with the woman at his side. "You knew my parents?"_

_Pausing, Minerva McGonagall turned to look into the questioning, eager eyes of the young boy with her, "I tell you what, when we're finished today Mr. Potter, we can discuss your parents over lunch. How does that sound?"_

_A broad smile erupted over the features of the young man in front of her upon her suggestion. Turning his gaze back towards the bustling alley before them, Harry replied enthusiastically, "What are we waiting for?"_

_Professor McGonagall fought back a smile as the young boy walked forward, only to turn and wait for her to lead the way._

--- ---

After a few minutes of maneuvering through the crowd and into Gringotts bank, Professor McGonagall helped Harry learn of and view his vault that would be used for his schooling. As they finished within the bank, the professor led the young Harry out into the alley and into the multitude of store lining its walkway. Now after three hours of quality shopping, only hindered by the need to explain things to her young charge, McGonagall had helped in purchasing everything the young man would need for his first year except for his wand.

As they stood outside of Ollivander's, Professor McGonagall took a slight breath. She had known both of Harry's parents and was true to her word about the power they had both held, she could only imagine what magic this young man would be able to accomplish with a wand. Turning to Harry, the professor couldn't help but smile at his eagerness to move forward.

"Now Mr. Potter, you this is the same store that your parents came to in order to purchase their wands. Mr. Ollivander is a master wand maker held in the highest regard. If anyone has the right wand for you, it will be here in this store."

Harry practically ran inside the shop, hoping to get started on his life as a wizard immediately, though he had the rest of his school supplies, he knew this was where the magic was focused. Moving further into the darkened store, Harry could only gape wide eyed at what was in front of him. Multiple shelves held countless boxes, set up in what seemed to be a haphazard way. Barely had he started to look about the room, when an elder man stepped out from the back of the store.

"Well hello Mr. Potter, I was wondering when I would see you step through that door. It seems only yesterday your parents were in here buying their first wands."

Barely containing his glee, Harry walked up to the counter to address the wizened man before him.

"Hello sir."

Smiling, Mr. Ollivander turned his back to the young man at the counter, "Why don't we get started, allow me to find the first set."

Confused, Harry turned to his future professor that had followed his rapid entry, "Set?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, Mr. Ollivander allows you to try multiple wands right after another instead of waiting for each test. It allows for a quicker search by the customer, and also helps him narrow down his search."

Hearing something be set down upon the counter behind him, Harry turns to see five small boxes sitting in front of him with their lids removed. Within them, he could see what seemed to be five different types of finely honed sticks sitting within them. Picking one up, Harry looked to the older man before him who was watching with rapt attention.

"Well, give it a wave!" Mr. Ollivander spoke enthusiastically.

Harry hesitantly glanced at a smiling Professor McGonagall, then turned the wand to the side and flicked it. What none of them expected happened, or actually, didn't happen. Harry noticed nothing, no spell, no sparks, and no lights. Confusedly, Harry turned his eyes back to a very surprised Ollivander who stood stock still, staring at the young man before him.

"Try it again…"

Harry decided it might need more motion than a simple wrist flick, and swept it thoroughly at the side of the shop. Yet again, nothing happened, Harry jumped as he heard what sounded like a squeal erupt from the man behind the counter.

"Wonderful! Absolutely amazing! I knew you would be a challenge Mr. Potter! One moment, let me gather more wands!"

Harry could only watch as the hunched man in front of him jumped upon a rolling ladder and pushed off the edge of the shelving, rushing to the back of the store as he pulled multiple wands off of the shelves and flung them to the front of the store.

"Go ahead and try those! Remember young man, give a wave! No more of those little flicks!" Ollivander called joyfully from the back of the shop where Harry could definitely hear the distinct sounds of giggling as more and more wands were flying through the air to land before him.

Two hours later, we find young Harry standing in front of what he believed to be over a thousand wands littering the floor and counter before him. His frustration soon turned to anxiety as he noticed the haggard look that seemed to growing steadily on Professor McGonagall's face with each wand that went in his hand.

"This is truly something I never thought I would see…"

Harry's thoughts once more were interrupted as he turned to see Ollivander looking upon him with a disheartened gaze.

"Surely this is wrong… he has to have it within!" Shouted a now uncommonly frazzled McGonagall at the elder man before her.

"…The wands do not lie Minerva; you know this more than most." The elderly wand maker spoke sadly.

"No…no this isn't possible! Watch him for me, I must contact Dumbledore!" shouted the confused woman as she ran from the store with a quickness that Harry would not have expected.

Turning his confused eyes back to Ollivander, Harry spoke the question that was plaguing his mind.

"Excuse me sir, but what did she mean it wasn't possible?"

Mr. Ollivander forlornly looked to the young boy before him, he had only minutes ago witnessed the pure joy the boy had when entering his shop, now he had the duty of informing the boy what would probably be a crushing blow.

"Mr. Potter, as I said before, the wands do not lie. When a wand gives no action, no response whatsoever to whom holds it, it almost always means one thing. That person has no magic to wield with a wand, I'm sorry young man, but it seems you do not have the magic within you."


End file.
